she turned and fled through the hedge and into her own home.
And that afternoon Bert Sands, having returned from her wanderings, drove her little car up the mountain and called upon Dick, to learn of his progress.
"Well?" she inquired, ensconced behind the tea-tray; "What is the report? Are you getting anywhere?"
And Dick Harris looked her fairly in the face and replied: "Yes, Mrs. Sands—but I can't tell you anything about it." And then he amended the statement; "I can't tell you all about it," he corrected.
Bert smiled across at him. "That's all right," she said. "If we happen upon anything that isn't our own, we can't tell it; that's sure. That is a sort of a house of secrets over there, anyway," and she inclined her head in the direction of the neighboring lanai; "and we don't want to pry or to learn anything that isn't any of our business. All that we want is to help one sad little old lady; and anything that is not meant in that direction, is kapu, and never happened, so far as we are concerned."
"Fine!" said Dick, gratefully, and then went on; "There have been some curious happenings which I don't entirely understand and I can't tell you all about them; but they have to do with the call of the Morton girls that day when you warned me of their
